The Ghost and the Flame

23 years of life had taught YN one thing: if you don’t speak up for yourself, the world will treat you like a footnote.

She was a college student by day and a survivor by night, working a shift-work life with no safety net but her own iron will. She was warm to those she loved, but to the world, she was a firecracker bossy, brave, and impossible to ignore.

Thousands of miles away or perhaps just a few blocks in spirit stood Min Yoongi. At 32, he was the gravity that held the city’s underworld together.

He didn't have "vices." He didn't gamble, he didn't crave gold, and he certainly didn't do romance. His life was a calculated equation involving his mother, his brother, and the silent business of death.

Until the night the equation broke.

The Encounter

The black sedan glided through the rain-slicked streets like a predator. Yoongi sat in the back, the scent of gunpowder still clinging faintly to his coat. His eyes were closed, seeking a silence that usually came easily.

Then, he heard it. A voice sharp, melodic, and thick with defiance.

"I said, the meter was five dollars, not ten! Do I look like I’m subsidizing your retirement?"

Yoongi opened his eyes. Through the tinted glass, he saw her. She was standing on a street corner, finger pointed at a disgruntled driver, her face lit by the neon hum of a convenience store. She looked electric vivid in a way that made the rest of the gray street look dead.

"Stop the car,"

Yoongi commanded.

The vehicle jerked to a halt. Beside him, Namjoon, his most trusted advisor, checked his watch.

"Boss? We’re behind schedule."

Yoongi didn't respond. His gaze was anchored to the girl.

"Namjoon. Who is that?"

Namjoon squinted through the window, then leaned back with a nonchalant shrug.

"No clue. And before you ask for more, remember: I’m a happily married man. My loyalty starts and ends at home."

Yoongi’s jaw tightened. "I am aware your wife is 'handsome,' Namjoon. I’m asking for a tactical profile, not a dating recommendation. Get the information."

Namjoon cleared his throat, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

"Right. Sorry, boss."

By the time the sedan pulled away, the girl was gone, swallowed by the city lights. But the image of her standing her ground against the world remained burned into Yoongi’s retinas.

The Dinner Table

The atmosphere inside the Min mansion was usually one of oppressive quiet. Tonight, it felt different.

Yoongi walked into the dining room to find Namjoon already seated, his attention buried in his phone. The lack of formality was a recurring friction point.

"Do you think," Yoongi started, his voice a low, dangerous silk, "that the chair is for lounging before your employer arrives?"

Namjoon didn't even flinch. "We aren't at the work, Yoongi. It’s dinner. I’m hungry."

"I am still your boss," Yoongi reminded him, pulling out his own chair with clinical precision.

"My boss My foot," Namjoon muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

Yoongi’s eyebrow arched a silent death sentence in the boardroom, but here, it was just an invitation for more chaos.

"Careful, babe," a new voice sang out. Jin drifted into the room, looking effortlessly elegant.

"Keep poking the tiger and he might actually remember where he hides the silencers."

Namjoon stood up immediately, his face softening as he moved to Jin’s side.

"Ah, my Worldwide Handsome. Thank god. Save me from this joyless man."

Jin smirked, patting Namjoon’s cheek before glancing at Yoongi. The playfulness dropped an inch, replaced by the efficiency of a man who handled the shadows.

"Jin,"

Yoongi said, cutting through the domesticity.

"The girl."

Jin nodded, pulling a tablet from the sideboard.

"I already sent the file to your private server. Her name is Yn. No family, high honors student, works two jobs. She’s a ghost with a loud voice."

Namjoon frowned, looking between the two of them.

"Wait... why are we actually looking into her? She’s a civilian, Yoongi. Why the interest?"

Yoongi stood up, his dinner untouched. The scraping of the chair sounded like a blade on a whetstone. He looked at Namjoon cold, unreadable,, and final.

"That," Yoongi whispered, "is none of your business."

He turned and vanished into the hall, leaving the file and the girl to haunt his thoughts.

Yoongi sit on his armchair and open the mail and mummer "Y/N"

He decided to visit her... Next day

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